"How much for this mandarin fish?"
"Three hundred copper coins..."
"Are you robbing me? Look, its gills are already pale! Two hundred fifty copper coins!"
"Sir, this is a mandarin fish! The flesh is as tender as a clove of garlic, with no fishy smell, few bones, and thick meat. I can't go any lower than three hundred copper coins."
The sounds of haggling, arguing, and cursing rose and fell in waves.
The shouts of fishmongers, the chants of laborers, and the crash of boats mixed with the crude curses from the Blood Saber Sect's overseers. The sounds wove together into a never-ending wave of noise that made one's head pound.
The air was thick with a fishy stench so heavy it was almost tangible.
It was the vapor from the Black Water River, the reek of fish and shrimp, and the sour smell of decaying creatures, mixed with the stench of human sweat and the pier's foul mud—a combination so thick it was choking.
